Harry Potter and the Swords of Power
by Phoenix-Darkstar
Summary: From the distant future, 12 mysterious Swords have arrived on Earth. These swords are so extremely powerful that they can change the balance of everything...Even in the Magical World. ABANDONED.
1. Prologue: Setting the Stage

Harry Potter and the Swords of Power  
  
Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing in this fic. Harry Potter and associates are owned by JK Rowling and Scholastic Publishing. The Swords series is owned by Fred Saberhagen.  
  
A/N: Thanks to Max LoneWolf for beta-reading this. Also thanks to Msscribe for beating on me to post it.  
  
PROLOGUE: SETTING THE STAGE  
Fifty thousand years in the future.  
  
Somehow, the lost Swords of Power-products of a war so terrible, it changed the very laws of nature, bringing magic back into being-have returned to Earth. ARDNEH, fearing what the Swords could do now, casts them into the past where Old-World technology could destroy them for good. However, when dealing with the Swords of Power, even ARDNEH must move cautiously. The Swords have been cast further into the past, and into another reality, where lives a wizard boy named Harry Potter.  
  
The Song of Swords  
  
Who holds Coinspinner knows good odds, Whichever move he make. But the Sword of Chance, to please the gods, Slips from him like a snake.  
  
The Sword of Justice balances the pans, Of right and wrong, of foul and fair. Eye for an eye, Doomgiver scans, The fate of all folk everywhere.  
  
Dragonslicer, Dragonslicer, how d'you slay? Reaching for the heart in behind the scales. Dragonslicer, Dragonslicer, where d'you stay? In the belly of the giant that my blade impales.  
  
Farslayer howls across the world, For thy heart, for thy heart, who hast wronged me! Vengeance is his who casts the blade, Yet he will in the end, no triumph see.  
  
Who flesh the Sword of Mercy hurts hast drawn no breath, Whose soul is wandering in the night, Has paid the summing of all debts in death, Has turned to see returning light.  
  
The Mindsword spun in the dawn's gray light, And men and demons knelt down before. The Mindsword flashed in the midday bright, Gods joined the dance and the march to war. It spun in the twilight dim as well, And gods and men marched off to hell.  
  
I shatter swords and splinter spears, None stands to Shieldbreaker. My point's the fount of orphans' tears, My edge the widow-maker.  
  
The Sword of Stealth is given to One lowly and despised. Sightblinder's gifts: his eyes are keen, His nature is disguised.  
  
The Tyrant's Blade no blood hath spilled, But doth the spirit carve. Soulcutter hath no body killed, But many left to starve.  
  
The Sword of Siege struck a hammer's blow, With a crash and a smash, and a tumbled wall. Stonecutter laid a castle low, With a groan and a roar, and a tower's fall.  
  
Long roads the Sword of Fury makes, Hard wall it builds around the soft. The fighter who Townsaver takes, Can bid farewell to home and croft.  
  
Who holds Wayfinder knows good roads, Its master's step is brisk. The Sword of Wisdom lightens loads, But adds unto their risk.  
  
A young boy walked across a field in Northern England. It was dusk, and he knew he must arrive home as fast as possible. It did not appear, however, that he would make it. The sky grew even darker, as black clouds rolled in across the lands. A crack of thunder, and the rains began.  
  
The boy started to run, hoping he would make it to his house in time, to be warm and cozy with his family. He did not know what fate was to bring to him. He ran, and kept running. A flash of lightning. In the eerie glow of the forked white light, he thought he saw figures standing in the grass. He ignored them. They must only be his imagination. He kept running.  
  
Another flash. They were still there, yet closer now. Panic began to ensnare him. Were they real? Who were they? Terror flamed up inside him, and now he began to run even faster, for dear life, for he could feel a malevolence about them that made him feel cold beyond what the rain was doing, and made the hairs stand on his neck and arms.  
  
He was just about to the edge of the field, when he tripped. More specifically, tripped over something. Despite his terror, he turned on the ground and saw it. A black sheath, with a sword hilt sticking from it. He looked around cautiously. The figures did not appear to be present. Perhaps he had outrun them. Perhaps they had given up.  
  
He crawled forward slowly, and grasped the sheath. He slowly pulled on the hilt. Suddenly, as the gleaming metal shone in the half-light from the moon, he was stricken again by a feeling that appeared out of no-where. But suddenly, that feeling did not matter. Nothing did. He thought about setting down the weapon, but that didn't matter now either. He slumped to the ground, almost as if relieved of the will to live.  
  
Black figures were all about him now. He made no move to run, or even stand. The inch of blade still showing seemed to suck his life force from him, rending his very soul. Hands grabbed at the boy, heaving him up. They wrested the sword from his willing grasp. The sword was fully sheathed again. The fog started to lift from his mind.  
  
He stared about. The figures were all cloaked, and surrounding him. They stared back at him, but then their ranks part, and another figure, taller than the others, entered the circle. In the gloom, the boy could see faintly glowing red eyes from under that hood. He tried to scream, but the apathy still consumed him enough to prevent it.  
  
"What shall we do with him, Master?" queried one darkly. There seemed to be no question about what they would do.  
  
The tall figure stood still for one moment, saying nothing. "No one must know what has transpired here tonight." The figure raised one hand, and there seemed to be some sort of wand there.  
  
Then there was a blast of intense green light, then blackness.  
  
The boy's lifeless body was found early next morning, sprawled, eyes still open, in the field. There was no sign that anyone else had been there. The sword, likewise, was gone.  
  
* * *  
  
In the town of Surrey, outside London, a sixteen year old named Harry Potter basked in the glory of Sunday morning. He was actually able to sleep in a bit on that one day now. A little threatening had been in order, of course, for the Dursleys, his only living relatives, did everything they could to keep him downtrodden, as they were Muggles of the worst order, terribly afraid of magic. However, Harry's godfather, Sirius Black, was a convicted killer-who was actually innocent, it turned out-in the wizarding world, so the threat of him being unhappy if Harry was usually enough to get him some small freedoms. This was one of them. Adding to the fact that Dudley was no longer allowed breakfast on weekends, owing to the fact that he was built like a hippopotamus, wider than he was tall, Harry had nothing to do Sunday mornings.  
  
He slowly decided to drag himself up and glance at the latest letters from his two best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. He sorely missed both of them, especially Hermione, though he would never admit that to either of them. The simple fact of the matter is that he and Hermione had grown somewhat closer towards the end of last year, while Hermione was still upset about her breakup with Ron. Although she was the one who had suggested it, she still was unhappy to have to go through with it, and Ron, who could be temperamental, had ended up stalking the school angrily for weeks. It had fallen to Harry to raise her spirits in time for the OWLs, which were one of two very important tests they took at their school, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  
  
In the end, Harry thought he was probably falling for Hermione, but he couldn't ever say that. For one thing, he didn't want to ruin his friendship with her, for another thing, his friendship with Ron would also likely end if he made a move, as Ron was still extremely jealous and protective of her. So he sat back and kept his peace.  
  
Harry stared into his closet, before pulling out an old pair of jeans and a t-shirt. He fingered his Hogwarts robes for a moment. The prefect badge shone brightly on the shoulder. He had been as amazed, if not more, than anyone about being made a prefect. He hadn't thought his marks had been good enough, but apparently he was mistaken, though he suspected teacher recommendation, in the form of Headmaster Dumbledore, who was very much a supporter of him, had a major part of it.  
  
He headed downstairs. He really had no plans for today, which probably meant his aunt would have him work in the garden, despite the stifling heat outside. He was, however, looking forward to tomorrow. It was his birthday. He knew he'd never get anything from his aunt and uncle, but he could always expect something from Hagrid, the Hogwarts groundskeeper and Care of Magical Creatures teacher, Hermione, and Ron.  
  
He decided to go for a walk, so as to take his mind off things. With the return of Lord Voldemort, the most powerful Dark Wizard in a thousand years, things were beyond hectic for Harry. The group assembled to try and fight Voldemort, the Order of the Phoenix, with Harry's help had defeated his plots last year to steal a Prism of Power from Ministry of Magic headquarters in London. The Prism could have restored even more of Voldemort's lost power to him. Still, as the Dark Lord had not actually appeared at the attack, Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, still denied his return.  
  
Harry was cutting through the backyard on his way back to Privet Drive when he tripped over something. It was a sword sheath. He frowned, puzzled. There was no logical explanation he could think of why this would be lying there. He hefted it curiously, and drew the blade partially. It was an exquisite blade, with absolutely no blemishes on its surface, which had an interesting mottled pattern which seemed to extend beyond the actual thickness of the blade. Inspecting the edge, he found it to be razor sharp, as he was able to cut a strand of hair effortlessly with it. Upon even closer inspection, he saw there was a small white marking on the plain black hilt. It appeared to be a small hammer of sorts. He shrugged. Doubtless the real owner would want it back, but.  
  
Without knowing exactly why, he hauled it back up to his room. He was thankful that the Dursleys had not even looked up when he entered. He certainly didn't want them to see him hauling a sword inside.  
  
As the day ended to a close, many more people discovered swords lying in the oddest of places about England. Little did they know that these Swords would shape the future of the entire wizarding world. 


	2. Chapter 1: Mystery of the Swords

Disclaimer: Yeah, yeah, I own nothing at all. JKR owns Harry Potter, Fred Saberhagen owns the Swords. Kinda sucks not owning anything.  
CHAPTER ONE: MYSTERY OF THE SWORDS  
  
Harry concealed the fact that he possessed that sword very well. Then again, it wasn't that hard to do so, as the Dursleys entered his room as little as possible. Soon enough, it was time to buy his school supplies, as term began on September 1st as usual. The only problem for him would be how to get to Diagon Alley.  
  
He approached Uncle Vernon the morning of August 3rd. Today was when Ron and Hermione said they would be at Diagon Alley, and Harry was going to see whether he could just stay at the Burrow the rest of the summer.  
  
"Er, Uncle Vernon?"  
  
Vernon grunted, but grudgingly looked up. "What is it now, boy?"  
  
"Er, I was just wondering, if I could go into London today. I have to, er.buy supplies. You know." He delicately avoided the actual reason for the necessity of those supplies, as the Dursleys would most likely refuse if he mentioned Hogwarts.  
  
Vernon glared at him in what appeared to be a shrewd manner. Finally, he gave a great sigh. "Oh, very well. Need to get some things for Dudley, anyways. I'll take you."  
  
Harry grabbed his trunk and lugged it down.  
  
"Going somewhere, are you?" asked Vernon nastily.  
  
"As a matter of fact, I was planning on staying with one of my friends the rest of the summer. If that's alright with you." He knew it would be. The Dursleys would do anything to get him out of the house and away from them.  
  
"Fine, then. Let's get you going."  
  
The drive into London was made in complete silence. Vernon had even turned off the radio, and Harry dared not even breath loudly. Harry was dropped off a block away from where he had specified, he was certain on purpose. No doubt Vernon didn't want to be seen anywhere near where some of Harry's kind might be hanging about.  
  
Harry pushed open the door to the Leaky Cauldron. He was widely ignored, being a rather unobtrusive-looking boy, but Tom, the owner of the establishment, recognized him straight away.  
  
He strode up Harry. "Morning, there, Mr. Potter," he said, lowering his voice so not to attract attention. "You be wanting anything?"  
  
"No, thank you Tom," Harry said politely, "just need to buy some things in Diagon Alley."  
  
Harry left through the back door. He tapped the bricks on the wall accordingly, and they magically re-arranged themselves to reveal the entrance to Diagon Alley. Dozens of wizards strode about into various rather ramshackle looking stores. Harry knew he first needed to go to Gringotts, the wizard bank, where he could get money and meet up with Hermione and Ron.  
  
He entered the massive marble building. There were as always dozens of goblins striding about, doing various things. Harry spotted a tall red- head chatting with a shorter girl with curly brown hair streaked with blonde. He recognized them both instantly. "Hey, Ron, Hermione!" he called to them. They abruptly turned. They, too recognized him and jogged over. Hermione flung herself into Harry's arms with a great big hug, causing him to drop his trunk and almost fall to the floor. She looked a bit embarrassed as she pulled away. Ron pursed his lips for a moment, then a grin reappeared and he clapped Harry on the shoulder grandly.  
  
"How are you, Harry? The Muggles treating you alright?" asked Ron. Ron seemed even taller than when Harry has seen him last, which didn't seem possible with Ron's already towering height.  
  
"Not bad. They've agreed to let me stay with you the rest of the summer." Harry couldn't help but feel happy. He truly never felt at home at Privet Drive. His friends were more like his family than anything else.  
  
"It's so wonderful to see you, Harry," said Hermione with a smile on her face, "I was, erm, really starting to miss you." She broke off her words, her face a bit pink.  
  
Harry wasn't exactly sure what to make of her current behavior. He was certainly glad to see her, too, and Hermione was given to random acts of great affection every now and again, but never seemed embarrassed by them.  
  
"My parents also agreed to allow me to stay with Ron until the start of term. It'll be great, won't it? The three of us?" she continued.  
  
Ron and Harry invited Hermione down on the cart ride into the depths of Gringotts, as she had never gone before, but she refused. Harry felt it was just as well. He didn't want anyone to know about the immense wealth that he had inherited. It made him fell bad enough that the Weasleys were so poor, he didn't want Hermione to know that he had so much money either. He of course suspected that money was no problem for her family, as her parents were both dentists, but just the same, all that money which he had never lifted a finger of work for made him feel uncomfortable.  
  
Harry had always found the rides into the vaults exhilarating, so he felt in an even better mood when he arrived. Their first stop after they had their money was Madame Malkin's Robes. Harry knew he hadn't actually grown too much, but his robes were from fourth year, and they were beginning to get stretched. He was actually in far better physical shape than he had ever been, as his morning runs that he frequently took were doing wonders for him. He was a far sight away from what the twins or Oliver Wood had looked like, though, which he had no problem with. If a girl was shallow enough to only notice physique, he didn't especially care for them.  
  
The next stop would be Flourish and Blotts. Hermione, as always, wanted to blow most of her money on books, but Harry and Ron managed to restrain her. To help placate her, Harry bought her one of the books she wanted as an early birthday present, which, much to Ron's apparent disgust, elicited another hug from her. Though from lightly skimming through some of the books, Harry could see their course load would get no easier, he didn't really mind. He had resolved to learn as much as he could about everything. Though he didn't really want to, he knew that it seemed his destiny to have to fight Voldemort in the end, and he wanted to be ready.or at least die on his feet.  
  
Eventually, they came back to the Leaky Cauldron, where Mr. And Mrs. Weasley, along with their daughter Ginny, were waiting. Ginny gave Harry the smile she always kept for him, and he gratefully returned it. Though she admitted her crush on his had been rather silly, that hadn't stopped them from becoming close friends. Harry could never get over how innocent of a kid she was, even though she was fifteen.  
  
Harry took another look at Mr. Weasley's drawn face, and knew instantly that something was amiss.  
  
"Mr. Weasley? What's happened?"  
  
Wordlessly, Mr. Weasley pushed over the latest issue of the Daily Prophet. The headline read that a Muggle boy had been found dead in Northern England, and it was believed that he had been killed by the Killing Curse.  
  
"But, why? Why would they do this? There seems to have been no motive." Harry didn't understand. Voldemort and his followers were evil, but why go that far out of their way to kill one person?  
  
Mr. Weasley shook his head. "No one's really sure why. Fudge of course denies that You-Know-Who had anything to do with this. And when I tried to explain to Percy." His voice trailed off. One of Ron's older brothers, Percy, did not believe that Voldemort had returned. He remained loyal to Fudge. A rift had been steadily building between him and the rest of the family for some months now, ever since Percy discovered his father was working for Dumbledore spying on the Ministry. That Percy hadn't reported him yet was amazing, as far as Harry was concerned.  
  
Hermione was examining the article now. "It says here that they found nothing in the area, that there was no sign anyone else had ever been there." She stamped her foot. "There has to be some reason why they would do this!"  
  
Ron just stood there somberly. "They like to kill. It's fun for them." His voice was soft, yet it was hard as granite. Ron had seen more danger by Harry's side than anyone had a right to see in a lifetime. He was no longer the continual joker he had been. He had seen Colin Creevey killed before their eyes last year, and had been powerless to do anything about it. The fact that the three of them had inadvertently killed a Death Eater in that episode of horror did nothing to help soften the blow. Hermione had cried for hours after they returned to the castle.  
  
Mr. Weasley stood. "Well, come on, kids, let's get going. We'll talk more back at the Burrow." They all went to the fireplace and grabbed a bit of Floo Powder. Hermione still seemed a bit apprehensive about this mode of travel. Harry couldn't blame her. He remembered distinctly his first experience with Floo Powder, accidentally going into Knockturn Alley.  
  
He threw his Powder into the fire and yelled, "The Burrow!" He stepped into the fire and vanished.  
  
* * *  
  
The Burrow seemed about as ramshackle as ever, Harry noted when he came out at the Weasley fireplace. He loved it. This was certainly the best house he had ever been in, and wouldn't trade a large manor-house, which he suspected the Malfoys owned, for this.  
  
He helped Hermione stand up as she came crashing in after him. She seemed a bit bewildered. "If I ever have to do that again, it'll be too soon," she said vehemently, dusting her clothes off. Harry glanced about. The house seemed rather empty.  
  
"Er, where's Percy? Is he still at work?"  
  
"Oh, he almost never leaves now, it seems. Only comes home on the weekends," answered Mr. Weasley. "I, er, suspect he wants some time to himself."  
  
Harry decided not to pursue that subject any further. Ron stepped forward. "Here, Harry, let's get that stuff up to my room, so you can get settled in." Ron grabbed one end of the heavy trunk and they lugged it up the stairs. Hermione and Ginny followed, having somewhat more difficulty heaving Hermione's trunk up. Harry and Ron went to help them.  
  
"Thanks," puffed Hermione, her slight frame not used to such work, despite the twenty or so books she always seemed to be carrying. "If you'll excuse me for a moment, I'm going to change out of these dirty clothes." She closed Ginny's door.  
  
Harry stepped into Ron's room. It was just as he had remembered it, the Chudley Cannons posters, the strange knick-knacks hanging all about. It was a great room.  
  
"So," said Ron, flopping himself onto the bed, "what do you figure we'll do this time?"  
  
Harry grinned. "Well, it'll be hard to pull off as many pranks this time, what with Hermione here and all. You know she won't allow such nonsense." He thought for a moment. "Well, there's always Quidditch. Speaking of which, I'm going to be Captain this year, the team already decided. It makes sense, I mean, I'll be the only one with more than a year of experience."  
  
Ron nodded. "Yeah, listen, Harry, the Cannons are going to be playing in a match pretty close to here in about a week. Mum and Dad'll probably let us go if we ask them." Ron's eyes widened at the prospect. The Chudley Cannons were his favorite team. They were also, unfortunately, one of the worst teams in the league. Make that the worst team. They were on a record-shattering losing streak, and hadn't won in five years. They also were the record holder for the biggest margin of loss in history, in a match against Stonehenge United. Harry recalled the utter pain on Ron's face while he reported the results of that match.  
  
Harry was excited, though, about the prospects of seeing another professional Quidditch match. So far, all he had seen was the World Cup finale in fourth year, but that had only left him a hungering for more. "That would be excellent.though I'm not sure Hermione would enjoy a Quidditch game after, well, you know."  
  
Harry referred to her first boyfriend, Bulgarian star player Viktor Krum. Although he had been a pretty good guy, and seemed to generally care about Hermione, she had thought things were moving too fast, and then when she had met his parents in Bulgaria, after months of negotiating with her parents, she had written the most vindictive letter Harry had ever seen her write. They had been incredibly rude to her, and she told Viktor before she left that she couldn't continue their relationship anymore. Viktor, perhaps feeling a bit snubbed, had been spotted with several attractive young ladies since then, leaving Hermione feeling even more angry.  
  
"Hmm, you do have a point," mused Ron. "Well, she'll be with us, so I'm sure it'll be fine. And if not, well, she'll have Ginny to hang out with."  
  
Harry considered this. It was true enough, Ginny was the only real close friend Hermione had who was a girl. Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, her roommates, were just too, well, girlish for Hermione. Ginny was actually fairly studious herself, so it gave Hermione someone to turn to for girl problems.  
  
"I guess so. Well, we'd better ask you parents first before anything else."  
  
With that they headed downstairs to seek permission from Mr. And Mrs. Weasley. Sure enough, they gave permission, so now all Harry and Ron had to do was speak to Hermione. They waited in the hallway for her to come out from Ginny's room.  
  
"How long has she been in there now?" asked Ron for the umpteenth time.  
  
Harry gave him a sidelong glance. "Just be patient. These things take time. You know how it is with girls."  
  
"And how is that, Harry Potter?" He turned with a start. Ginny stood there with her hands on her hips.  
  
"Oh, er, that is, well, they tend to, you know, take their time changing their clothes?" He really did not want to have this conversation.  
  
Ron swooped in to rescue him. "Look, Gin, it's just a little light- hearted banter. You girls talk about guys the same way, right?" he said with a winning smile. Harry thought for a wild moment that Ron had a career as a used car salesman.  
  
Ginny's scowl turned upside down slowly. "Well, yes, but.Oh, alright, you win again, big brother." She punched him lightly on the arm. "So, what is this all about, anyways? There any particular reason you'd like to tell me why you're standing outside my room while Hermione's in there?"  
  
Harry grinned mischievously. "Isn't it obvious? We're spying on her, get a glimpse of Hermione in her knickers." Ginny's eyes widened, and she looked scandalized. "No.you wouldn't." Ron rolled his eyes and burst with laughter. "Of course not, Ginny, Harry's just playing with you."  
  
Harry distinctly heard Ginny mutter under her breath, "Bloody boys, never know when they're screwing off."  
  
Just then, Hermione exited, wearing jeans, a white shirt and a denim jacket. She glanced about the hallway for a moment. "Is there a reason you're all out here?"  
  
"Well, yes, actually," said Harry, "You see, Ron and I were."  
  
"Harry!" shrieked Ginny, "If you tell her what you told me, I'll-"  
  
Ron clapped a hand over her mouth. "Please continue, mate."  
  
Harry smiled, and turned back to Hermione. "Well, we were wondering if you'd like to go to a Quidditch game with us next week. Cannons versus Bath."  
  
Hermione sighed. "I suppose, though I don't see the point. The Cannons haven't won since we were first years, right? And that game against Stonehenge-"  
  
"Don't remind me," grimaced Ron. He changed the subject. "Well, that's settled then. There is just one more thing I'd like to show you two." He looked pointedly at Ginny, who scowled and stomped into her room.  
  
They followed Ron into his room, where he grabbed a long, thing package wrapped in a sheet. He carried it down behind the house.  
  
Hermione broke in. "Just what was Ginny referring to, when she mentioned what you told her?"  
  
Harry's face got warm. "Oh, well."  
  
Ron grinned. "According to Harry, we were trying to get a glimpse of you in your knickers." Harry stared daggers at Ron. Hermione simply laughed.  
  
"Did she really believe that? You two can be rude, but you'd never do something like that.would you?" she said, peering at the both of them.  
  
"Of course not, Hermione, we were just playing around with Ginny."  
  
Ron cut in. "Anyhow, what I wanted to show you was."  
  
"Oh, right," said Harry. "What?"  
  
Ron unwrapped the package. Inside it was a sheath, exactly like the one that Harry's sword was in. A look of disbelief ensnared his face.  
  
Ron misinterpreted his look. "Amazing, isn't it?" He pulled the blade out. It was a meter long, and the blade looked exactly like Harry's, smooth, unblemished, razor-sharp, with the same mottled pattern.  
  
"Bill found it last week in Egypt. Sent it to me as a birthday present; he's missed a few over the years. Not that I minded, but, this, this is an amazing piece of work." He gave it a bit of a twirl, and Harry could see he'd handled a sword before.  
  
"Er, could I see it for a moment?" asked Harry. Ron handed it to him. Harry inspected the hilt, as Hermione looked over his shoulder. Surprisingly, she seemed to be examining the hilt as well. It depicted a sword high over a wall.  
  
He handed it back to Ron, as he and Hermione straightened. "I'll be right back," they said at the same instant. They peered at each other a moment, then tore as one back to the house. Harry grabbed his sword from his trunk and headed back. Hermione arrived a moment later, carrying an identical sheath.  
  
"Wait a second," said Ron, "those look exactly like mine!"  
  
Harry nodded. "Not only that, the blades look the same, too." He drew his, with its hammer symbol. Hermione drew a perfect replica of a sword. Hers had an arrow pointing to the blade.  
  
"But what do these all mean? Who would make three duplicate swords with different symbols?" asked Hermione. That was the question, thought Harry. The mystery of the swords began.  
  
A/N: In case anyone was wondering about the rating, this fic will get pretty violent in the end. If that's not your thing, then don't read. 


	3. Chapter 2: Origin of the Swords

CHAPTER TWO: THE ORIGIN OF THE SWORDS  
  
They wrote to Bill, to see where head had found the sword. Strangely enough, it had been found inside a treasure trove he had uncovered while on a mission for Gringotts. As it wasn't gold, silver, or adorned with jewels, the goblins could've cared less that he took it. Hermione related to them that she had found hers in a park near her house. She didn't even know why she decided to keep it. They then proceeded to argue about whether or not to tell Mr. Weasley about the swords. "Ron, your father would want to know! These swords could be dangerous. They might have dangerous magic, or who knows what!" shrieked Hermione. On one level, Harry agreed with her. The fiasco with Tom Riddle's diary in second year had opened his eyes to the dangers of some magical objects. "Hermione," said Ron exasperatedly, "has your sword shown any powers yet? Has Harry's or mine? For all we know, they're just normal swords." "With this kind of craftsmanship? And then why are the markings different, if they're just swords?" Harry decided to butt in before this argument got worse. "Look, if there is a danger to these swords, I don't think Mr. Weasley could do much about it, no offense or anything. I think we should take them straight to Professor Dumbledore when we get to Hogwarts." Hermione glared at him a moment, before she sighed. "But that's still two weeks away. Who knows what could happen between now and then?" "Well," said Ron, looking for any excuse to keep his sword, "nothing has happened already. I mean, most magical objects have to have someone actively using them to do anything, much less harm. It'll probably be safe." Hermione still seemed upset. Harry stepped in. "Look, Hermione, if these things do start to exhibit some kind of danger, we'll take them to Mr. Weasley straight away, but nothing's happened yet, OK. Just calm down and be patient. Everything will be fine, trust me." He smiled at her. She couldn't help herself, and smiled back, placated finally.  
  
Later that night, Ron turned to Harry as lay on the floor. "Harry? How do you do that?" "Hmm?" "I mean, calm Hermione down. I could never do that, but she always gives in to you. How do you do it?" Ron propped himself up to look at Harry. Harry sighed. "I don't know, Ron. I just." He looked at Ron. "You still like her don't you? I mean, in that way." If Ron's face grew red, Harry couldn't tell in the moonlight. "Well.I guess so. I never gave up on her, but." He blew out a heavy breath. "I just always wanted to figure out what I did wrong, or what I could've done to make it work." Harry considered this for a moment. While he completely understood this made sense from Ron's point of view, he knew that there was nothing he could've done. Hermione had told Harry so. There was just too much of a difference of personality. "Sometimes, Ron, things just aren't meant to be. Look at it this way, it didn't hurt your friendship. Isn't that important? You are still friends. Things like this.they can force two people apart completely." Ron peered at him. "Since when were you so wise?" Harry could tell he was joking. He grinned. "I guess I must be hanging around Professor Dumbledore too much." "I said wise, not crazy."  
  
The Quidditch match proved to be more exciting than they had thought. The Cannons' new Chaser, Kyle Foster, was lighting up the boards. However, if they didn't get the Snitch, they'd probably still lose. "I thought the Cannons were supposed to be really bad, Ron," said Hermione, delighting in the look of pain on Ron's face when she uttered that. "Well, they're not really that bad. Their drafts are starting to show some promise." As he said this, Foster scored another goal, to make it 90-50 Cannons. "Well, Ron, you know that Foster has scored 70 of the Cannons' 90 points. Other than him, they're pretty mediocre," said Harry cunningly. He exchanged a grin with Hermione as Ron's cheek twitched. Ron changed the subject. "Speaking of new Chasers, I understand that Taylor Ward is starting at Hogwarts this year." Hermione and Harry both looked at him with puzzlement. Though Harry loved Quidditch, the fact that he lived with the Dursleys made it impossible for him to follow the sport. "Who is Taylor Ward?" he asked. Ron looked scandalized. "What? You don't know? Why, she's the best youth-league Chaser today! Some people say she's the best in the youth league this century." "Ron," said Hermione stuffily, "You know that first years aren't allowed." Harry poked her in the ribs. She looked at him and sighed. "Oh, alright, so Harry was! But we don't even know which house she'll be in." Still, the discussion had Harry thinking. What would he do with such a great Chaser? In either case, the Cannons again lost, but just barely, Foster's performance keeping it close until the end.  
  
The days passed quickly after that. Hermione had the three of them studying their course books at a frenetic pace during the day, which left them little time to do anything else. Soon enough, September 1st rolled around and they all piled into the new car Mr. Weasley was experimenting on for the journey to Platform 9 ¾ at King's Cross Station. They thankfully all made it through the barrier just fine. Harry was a bit paranoid about it every now and again. Sometimes running at a brick wall seemed silly to him, and there was always the time when Dobby the house-elf had sealed the barrier and he had crashed into it. They were met on the platform by Neville Longbottom, a plump boy who always seemed to be getting into accidents. Strangely enough, though, he seemed rather serene. Harry shrugged. They managed to find themselves an open compartment. They stashed their trunks and sat down. "Well," yawned Harry as he stretched in his seat, "Another year at Hogwarts. Wonder if there'll be another Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" Hermione smiled. "I doubt that anything bad has happened to Professor Birmingham." Professor Birmingham was the DADA teacher in fifth year. He had been an Auror before himself, and was one of the best instructors they've ever had. Add onto that the fact that he was not a Death Eater, incompetent fraud, or werewolf-though Professor Lupin had been great-it seemed unlikely he would be gone. Just then, the compartment door opened, revealing the one person they absolutely did not want to see. Draco Malfoy. A smug smile spread across his face. "So," he sneered, "you three are still coming here. Most a pity. I would have thought that the Dark Lord would've gotten the better of at least one of you by now." Ron snarled menacingly, but Malfoy's cronies, Crabbe and Goyle, appeared at his sides. They cracked their knuckles menacingly. All of the sudden, a dull pounding sound like a great hammer echoed in the compartment. All of them were confused and glanced about in puzzlement. "What was that?" demanded Malfoy. "No idea. But I suggest you get out of here," said Harry, standing slowly, still holding Ron back. The pounding got louder and faster now. All of the sudden, it was joined by another sound, this one a high pitched mill-saw whine. Malfoy, looking a bit flustered by the noises, decided to back down. "Whatever. I was just about to leave, anyway. Don't want to be contaminated by any Mudblood air." He gave a final sneer as Harry held back Ron again, and departed. The noises slowed and then it was silent. "Harry," whispered Hermione, "Those sounds." "Huh? What about them?" Harry was suddenly aware that Hermione had not moved at all from the spot she had been sitting at next to him. She was staring wide-eyed at something. "They.they were coming from yours and Ron's trunks!" The three of them looked at each other. "The swords!" they all exclaimed at once. Harry and Ron threw open their trunks, dragging out the weapons. The door began to open again, just as Ron was unsheathing his to get a look at it. The sudden slamming of the door caused Ron to fumble, and the sword went flying towards the person standing there. However, he turned suddenly as there was a noise. It was Neville. He looked at them right after the sword flew by where his chest had been. "Whoah, that was lucky," he said. Apparently unfazed by this, he picked up Ron's sword and handed it to him. He sat down, saying, "Malfoy tripped. Pretty funny." Then Harry noticed it. Neville was wearing a sword at his belt. "Neville, could I see that sword for a moment?" he asked. Neville frowned. "Er, I'll let you take a look at it, as long as I hold it. I seem to have bad luck whenever I let go of it." He unsheathed it and showed it to Harry. "It's the same," breathed Harry, "but is has a picture of two dice on the hilt." "What?" said Neville, confused, "The same as what?" They all showed him their identical swords, save for the symbols. "We are going to show them to Professor Dumbledore when we arrive, Neville. Do you want to come, too?" Neville agreed to show his sword to Professor Dumbledore. He said that it was strange, though. Ever since he got this sword he had had a string of amazingly good fortune. He was not longer clumsy, didn't cause any accidents, none of that. It was like the sword itself was inherently lucky. The rest hadn't seen their swords exhibit any kind of powers, beyond the noises that Ron and Harry's had made. Still, they resolved to see Professor Dumbledore. The four traveled up to the castle, and they all strode up to the Head Table before the first years arrived. "Professor Dumbledore, we need to see you about something, as soon as possible," said Harry. Dumbledore eyed them. Harry suspected that Dumbledore more or less knew everything that happened in the castle, so if the swords were magically powerful, he already knew they were here. "Of course, Harry. I will meet you all in the Great Hall tonight after the first years are shown to the dormitories." Harry barely paid attention to the Sorting Ceremony. His mind was far too focused on the swords and what their meeting with Dumbledore would yield. He did hush up, though, when Taylor Ward was announced. She was thin, and on the short side, with shoulder length light brown hair. She looked a bit apprehensive as she strode up to the stool with the Sorting Hat. She sat there for almost a minute, until the Hat cried out, "GRYFFINDOR!" Smiling, she jumped down to her new table. Harry waved her over to sit near him. "Hello there. My name's Harry Po-" She stared at him. "Harry Potter? I had heard you went here, but I can't believe I'm actually meeting you!" She pumped his hand. She had a surprisingly strong grip for one so slight. Harry managed to extricate his fingers. "Yeah, well, anyways I'm one of the Gryffindor prefects. Hermione Granger here," he pointed to her and she smiled, "is the other. I'm also the Quidditch Captain." Ward smiled at him broadly. "Ah, I knew there must be an ulterior motive. Though, I can't say why so many people make this much out of me. I mean, from what I hear, Giusseppe Drigo in Italy is at least as good." She blushed slightly, as if talking about this embarrassed her. "I mean, have you even seen me play?" Harry smiled. "Well, from what I've heard you're brilliant, so I don't have to. I trust my sources." He looked at Ron. "I'll talk to Professor McGonagall to see if we can bend the first-year rule." The rest of the feast went as usual. Ron stuffed himself, earning a glare from Hermione. She and Harry then led the first years up to the common room. Hermione had chosen the password; it was "Revision." Trust her to pick a synonym for study. The four of them grabbed their swords after everyone was situation and headed down, careful not to attract any notice. They were in the Great Hall in a flash, waiting for Professor Dumbledore. He arrived shortly after them, along with Professors McGonagall, Snape, and Flitwick. "So, Harry, what is it you wish to discuss?" Harry stepped forward and unsheathed his sword. It shone fiercely in the light, a beam glinting off it's razor edge. Harry had a sensation of power and energy he had never felt before. He handed it to Professor Dumbledore, who handled it lightly, like an expert. "Where did you find this?" he whispered gravely after making a few practice swishes. Hermione stepped forward. "Well, Harry found his outside his Aunt and Uncle's house. I found mine in a park, Ron got his from his brother Bill, who found it in Egypt, and.where did you get yours, Neville?" Dumbeldore looked up. "Then.you each have one of these? Show them to me," he commanded. They all pulled out their swords, giving them up for inspection, even Neville, who dared not cross Dumbledore, especially not with Snape in the room. Dumbledore inspected them carefully, taking note of every detail. Professor Flitwick and Snape also looked over them warily, while McGonagall simply stood by watching like a hawk. Dumbledore eventually handed them all back. He sighed deeply. "It is as I feared. Some weeks ago, twelve magical objects arrived on this planet from another realm entirely. A.different universe parallel to our own. Exactly what they were, I was not sure, only that they were extremely powerful. All of you know the legend of King Arthur, yes?" The all nodded. "Each of the swords you now possess is at least as powerful as his Excalibur. Any more than that, I cannot say, as I myself do not know the extent or exact capabilities of each sword's powers." He paused. "Can any of you tell me what your swords have done, so far?" Harry, Hermione, and Ron looked sheepish. "Well, other than make sounds, Ron and mine haven't done anything. Hermione's hasn't done anything at all. Neville's though." He looked at Neville. "He says it seems to bring him luck." Dumbledore nodded slowly. "Just what kind of luck?" Neville looked terrified of answering. "Well.any kind of good luck. Like, the odds are always 100% in my favor. I made a bet with Seamus Finnigan which I was sure I'd lose, just to test it, but I won. And, whenever something's about to hurt me, I suddenly notice something and duck, or something like that." He fumbled for words. Dumbledore nodded. "If you would permit me, Neville, I would like to test it." Neville nodded meekly. Dumbledore raised his wand. "I am only going to try and Stun you, so don't worry." He opened his mouth, but just then, Snape, who had been pacing, tripped on his robes and knocked Dumbledore over. His curse missed Neville completely. Harry stood there, astonished. What were the odds of that? Maybe Neville's sword truly was lucky. Dumbledore was equally impressed. "Well, I must say, the odds of Severus knocking me over at just that instant were low indeed. That sword must give you extremely good fortune, Mr. Longbottom." He turned to the rest of them. "Now, it does not appear to me that these swords have any Dark Magic, or are currently dangerous. So, I will allow you to keep them. But, if they do start to exhibit dangerous properties, you must bring them to me at once. Understood?" They all agreed to this straight away. Harry started to leave, then realized something. "Er, Professor?" Dumbledore turned. "At the beginning of the month, a boy was killed by the Death Eaters up North. There appeared to be no motive. Could they, perhaps, have found a sword near the boy? Or the boy found it? You did say there were twelve." Dumbeldore nodded. "Indeed I did. And I have wondered those same thoughts, Harry. We must be on guard. Voldemort may have a Sword of Power." With that, he and the other Professors exited. And Harry was left to wonder if Voldemort really did have a Sword, and if so, what could his do?  
  
A/N: Sorry no update for a long time. I've been mostly updating this at www.portkey.org so haven't been by FF.net in a while. Sorry to keep everyone waiting for so long. 


	4. Chapter 3: Finding the Way

Disclaimer: JKR owns Harry Potter. Fred Saberhagen owns the Swords. I own a few bit characters plus the overall plot, and the banana I just ate.  
  
  
  
  
  
CHAPTER THREE: FINDING THE WAY  
  
  
Their classes had begun again. Professor Snape was wary of doing anything to Neville in Potions, as the absolute power of his Sword would likely help him, even though he left it in his trunk. Even if it wouldn't, a fact which Harry had no idea of the truth of, the threat of such was enough for Snape.  
"Longbottom! How many times." Snape's anger tailed off as he remembered the Sword. "Apparently, your extremely good fortune doesn't enter the realm of your classwork. Most a pity. I would look forward to a day when you don't bungle a potion."  
"Please, sir," squeaked Neville, "if I could bring-"  
"SILENCE!" roared Snape. Dumbledore didn't want anyone else knowing about the Swords. Snape had come dangerously close already. Then again, everyone had noticed Neville's great luck of late, Sword or not.  
Harry likewise had left his Sword in his trunk, not just out of respect for the orders of Dumbledore. Harry was honestly frightened of what his Sword might be able to do. Dumbledore had permitted them to examine their Swords in his private study after classes, but they had so far found nothing. Although they had discovered that the Swords seemed unaffected by heat, water, or most of the curses and hexes they knew.  
The only other teachers who Dumbledore had filled in on the Swords were Birmingham, who probably would've figured it out eventually, and Hagrid, who Dumbledore trusted above anyone. Although Harry wasn't sure he trusted Hagrid to keep his mouth shut, as he was well-known throughout the school as a good information source if you got him talking, and he had a tendency to talk too much at the local pub, Harry knew he could trust Hagrid with his life, and that was good enough for him.  
That evening, they all sat in Dumbledore's study, poring over their Swords. They needed every scrap of information. They had tried everything so far to try and bring something out of them.  
Well almost everything. "How could we be so stupid?" said Hermione suddenly. They all looked at her. "Well, we've all been looking for something complex, but what if it isn't? Why don't we try something simple?"  
She pulled out her wand and pointed it at her sheath, muttering a Revealer Spell. At first it seemed that nothing would happen, and her face fell. Then, slowly, fine words written in a golden color appeared. It seemed to be some kind of poem. It was in English.  
Harry looked at the title. "The Song of Swords," he muttered, scanning down the twelve verses. One fore each Sword of Power.He grinned, then wrapped Hermione in a hug. "You've done it, Hermione! This is what we've been looking for."  
He looked at her suddenly. Her face was just inches away from his, her face a bit red, as her eyes suddenly locked on his own. He sheepishly let her go. "This could tell us loads."  
They all in turn performed the Revealer on theirs, with the same result. Ron looked at the list intently. The first verse caught his eye. "Well, Neville's been having good luck, right? I'd say his is this Coinspinner, the Sword of Chance."  
Hermione nodded, now looking at her copy, and writing it down on parchment. "Yes, that would make sense. All odds suddenly in his favor. Chance pointing always towards him. Coinspinner." She then looked down. "Well, Ron, yours has a sword over a wall, right?"  
He looked. That it did. "Yes."  
"So, it's protecting something.perhaps.a town? There's one called Townsaver here. Could that be yours?"  
They all agreed that this made sense; though they had only conjecture, it seemed to make sense that the symbols would correlate. Looking again at the list, Harry glanced at Hermione's. An arrow. Pointing. "Hermione, yours has an arrow, pointing for directions, perhaps? So Wayfinder?"  
She looked. That did make sense to her. "I suppose so. Well done, Harry."  
Ron smirked. "Only figures that you'd get the Sword of Wisdom."  
She gave Ron a look. "Oh, quiet you." She stood. "Come on, let's go find Professor Dumbledore. We have to tell him about all this."  
"But wait," interrupted Ron, "what about Harry's?"  
She looked over the list fast. "Well, his has a hammer. Maybe Stonecutter, see here? "The Sword of Siege struck a hammer's blow." That could also explain the pounding noise. Now, come on!" She ushered them out.  
They ran down the stairs. Strangely enough, Professor Dumbledore was waiting for them. "Ah, and how is everything, children?" he asked.  
Hermione began to explain everything. Harry, meanwhile, suddenly had a headache. It seemed as if his glasses weren't working right. He got nudged. Neville was apparently having trouble with his Sword. "Neville," said Harry, interrupting Hermione, "what's wrong?"  
"I don't know, it's trying to point over there, though." Harry looked. There was nothing significant. He and Neville strode that way a few paces. "Just wait for us a moment," called Harry. But there was nothing. Nothing except.it was directly away from Dumbledore. Whichever move he make.It was trying to lead him away. Harry cautiously clutched the hilt of his Sword and turned back, ready to attack if need be. Only Dumbledore no longer stood there. In his place was Peter Pettigrew, and he was holding a sword.which looked like their own. "Hermione, Ron, move! That's not Dumbledore!" Suddenly, Pettigrew had his wand out. Ron's eyes widened, and he tried to draw his sword, but Pettigrew disarmed both of them. He then bound Hermione and Ron, and drew a small watch, speaking to it. "Convey!" Then they vanished.  
"Wha-how?" breathed Neville, "I thought Hermione said you couldn't Apparate or Disapparate here."  
"A portkey, word-activated, I'm sure of it," said Harry grimly. He looked at their fallen swords. Just then, Professor Dumbledore arrived. Harry was sure it was him this time.  
"What has happened?"  
Harry explained everything, how they had discovered the Song of Swords, which Swords they had, and then Pettigrew.  
Dumbledore nodded. "If what you tell me is true, then I believe he has the Sword you called Sightblinder. Disguising his true appearance." He paused, looking at the fallen Swords. "There is only one thing to do. Someone must take Wayfinder and follow him. If my surmise is correct, it should tell you where to go."  
Harry nodded, then knowing what to do, he picked up Wayfinder's sheath. "Professor, if you'll permit me, I'd like to try this task."  
Dumbledore sighed. "I knew you would, Harry, but it is very dangerous. Who know what could happen if."  
"I'll go with him then," declared Neville, far more bravely than he had ever sounded, "Hopefully, the luck of Coinspinner should protect us." He looked at Harry.  
Harry nodded his head in thanks and turned back to Dumbledore, chin held high. "I'd like to try, Professor. With these Swords, we should be able to do it."  
Dumbledore closed his eyes. "Harry if it were anyone else.Alright. I will give you twenty-four hours. No more. I cannot risk you out by yourself any longer than that. At the end of those twenty-four hours, you are to return here."  
Harry nodded. "Come on, Neville. We're going to need brooms." He handed Townsaver to Dumbledore and they were off. Harry ran up to the dormitory to get his Firebolt. On his way down, he heard a soft gasp. He turned, startled that anyone else would be here right this instant.  
It was Taylor Ward. Her eyes were fixed on his Swords. "What are you doing with those?"  
Harry swallowed. "I'm going to try and rescue someone. I needed my broom. Neville and I need to go as fast as we can."  
Taylor looked at him. Her eyes beheld a deep wisdom he had not seen before. "It's that girl, Hermione, isn't it?" She didn't wait for an answer, instead sprinting up to her dorm. She came back down an instant later with her own Firebolt. "Here. If you two need to go fast, you'll need another of these."  
Neville handled it like it might shatter at any moment. "I.I can't take this."  
"Yes you can. Just go. And good luck."  
Neville smiled slightly at that, some of his fear forgotten. "Luck's not going to be a problem." Harry clapped his shoulder and they were off.  
They reached the courtyard. Harry hefted Wayfinder. "Show me where to find Hermione!" he demanded. The Sword suddenly quivered, and swiveled him around to his right. "How far?" he asked. It was silent. It still only pointed.  
"I suppose that'll have to do," said Neville. He climbed aboard Taylor's broom. "Well, come on then. What are you waiting for?"  
Harry had never seen this side of Neville before. He jumped onto his broom, grinning, and they set off. Harry had to keep Wayfinder out so it could point them in the right direction, but other than that he was fine. He turned to Neville.  
"Since when are you the type to go rushing in?"  
"It's this Sword. I guess it gives me confidence I didn't have. All of its powers can take away all my bad aspects. I don't need to be as good at magic as you or Hermione, or even Ron when I have this."  
Harry's heart jumped at being compared to Hermione's level of ability. He thought back to what Taylor Ward had said. And his question to the Sword. He was going after Hermione. He wanted to find her more desperately than he did Ron. And he wasn't sure why.  
  
Following the directions of the Sword, Harry and Neville flew for several hours. The skies began to grow very dark, and if they didn't come upon Pettigrew soon, they'd have no chance to find them in time. Suddenly, the tip began to dip of its own accord. They were close.  
Harry pulled to a stop. Neville followed suit. "OK, Neville, most likely, we're going to be outnumbered. We move in carefully. If all else fails, hopefully Coinspinner can protect at least you. Here." He handed Neville Wayfinder. "If you are the only one who gets away-"  
"Harry, don't talk like that."  
"Listen!" snarled Harry, "This could go bad. If it does, I want you to have Wayfinder so you can lead Dumbledore and the others back. Do you understand?"  
Neville nodded. He could see why Harry was a true Gryffindor now. He finally understood. This was Harry at his finest. He wished he could have Harry's courage all the time, not just when he could hide behind the powers of Coinspinner. He followed Harry to the ground. They left their brooms hovering. Harry had his wand out now, but did not light it. Neville had Wayfinder held in front of him, Coinspinner at his belt.  
Harry paused, and pushed Neville down. "Shh," he whispered.  
Voices were wafting through the trees from nearby. There was a fire in a small clearing. "I still don't understand why you want us." It sounded like Ron.  
"It's all too obvious. I had originally planned to get just Potter, but when I saw you all had Swords, I tried to get all four. Unfortunately, Potter somehow recognized me, so I was forced to take you two hostage. He'll be along soon enough, and I can deliver him to my Lord." It sounded like Pettigrew to Harry. So that was his plan, he thought.  
"Scared of saying your own master's name, are you?" spat a feminine voice that was clearly Hermione, "and when he hears how you failed to get all our Swords, I'm sure he'll punish you anyways, you foul little man."  
There was a loud smack and Hermione shrieked. Blood boiling, Harry risked a glance over the shrub. Pettigrew had just backhanded Hermione's face with his silver hand. She lay sprawled on the ground, clutching her cheek with her bound hands. Ron was spitting with rage, but unable to move as he, too, was bound.  
Harry turned to Neville, trying to calm himself. He didn't want to attack while his mind was clouded with anger. "Neville, I'm going to distract him. You go in and untie them. Or cut their bonds if you have too. I won't be able to give you much time." Neville nodded gravely. Harry moved a distance away, then leapt out.  
"Hold it there, Pettigrew!" Pettigrew turned, shocked.  
"So, here already, are you? This will only make it more interesting." He went for his wand.  
"Stupefy!" yelled Harry. Pettigrew managed to catch the red flash on his silver hand. It knocked him over, but he was otherwise unhurt. He bounced back to his feet, wand in hand. Meanwhile, Neville had crept around Ron and Hermione and cut their bonds.  
"Expelliarmus!" yelled Pettigrew. Harry's wand shot from his hand.  
"Accio wand!" His wand began to return, but before it could, a resounding, yet dull pounding noise echoed through the forest, and Harry's Sword leapt into his hand of its own accord. The pounding continued.  
Pettigrew stared. "What?" He raised his wand, but did nothing else, unsure.  
Harry himself was amazed, too. He had remembered the pounding, but hadn't expected this. Did all Swords do such a thing? He had never carried one into battle before now.  
Neville had Hermione and Ron running now. Pettigrew turned. "Damn you, Potter!" He saw that he had no chance, as the three had their wands out now too. Pettigrew disappeared with a 'pop.' He had Disapparated.  
Harry sighed, and the pounding sound dropped down and ceased. He returned the Sword to its sheath and put his wand away. He jogged over to the brooms. The three met him there.  
Hermione grabbed Harry into a hug, crying into his chest. "Thank Merlin you found us, Harry. I didn't know what he'd have done if." She broke off, eyes watered down with tears. Harry held her for a moment, before wiping away some of her tears with his hand and giving her a caring smile. His finger traced a bruise along her face from Pettigrew's blow. "You OK?" She nodded, and he let his hand fall away. She swallowed and back away a bit, eyes still locked with his.  
Ron tightened his jaw, and gave Harry an arm hug. "Thanks, Harry. Just one thing. How did you find us?"  
"I'll explain on the way back. Come on." They hopped on the brooms, Ron with Neville, much to his displeasure, and Hermione with Harry. He could feel her head rest on his shoulder as her arms wrapped themselves tightly about his waist.  
Despite his promise, the trip was made in silence. Neville led with Wayfinder held in front of him. They landed at Hogwarts castle just as the sun began to rise. Just before they touched down, Harry heard Hermione whisper in his ear, "Thank you, Harry. Thank you for everything." He felt her kiss him lightly on the cheek. His cheeks felt hot, embarrassed by all her recent showings of affection, and he still had an imprint of warmth on his shoulder, but he shoved that thought away. Waiting for them were Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, Flitwick, and Madame Pomfrey. They all strode forward as Harry and the others landed.  
"Well done, Harry," said Dumbledore, eyes twinkling, "It really is amazing what you can do at times."  
Harry smiled back. "Thanks, Professor.but I had help." He waved for Neville, who came and stood with him.  
Madame Pomfrey interrupted. "I'd like to get this lot to the hospital wing, if I may, Headmaster." Dumbledore nodded and they all strode off.  
"So, Harry," interjected Ron, "how did you find us?"  
Harry smiled. "Well, there is a reason Hermione's Sword is called Wayfinder. It showed us the way to you." With that thought, they all entered the castle, content for now that they had foiled Voldemort's plans. A/N: Well, people, here is chapter 3. This is the only one of the first four installments with no cliffhanger.Although if you interpret it a certain way it is. 


	5. Chapter 4: Hermione's Problem

Disclaimer: OK, you know the drill. I own nothing except a couple bit characters. JKR owns Harry Potter and Co., Fred Saberhagen owns the Swords.  
  
A/N: For anyone who wanted more romance, things start to pick up in that sector.Even though this chapter is really slow.  
  
CHAPTER FOUR: HERMIONE'S PROBLEM  
  
A week passed after Pettigrew's attempted kidnapping. There was little doubt that he had to face his master's wrath. Harry had speculated as to whether Pettigrew had even told Voldemort that he possessed Sightblinder. In either event, Hermione was enjoying the use of her Sword. She was able to use it to find information in the library, as long as she did it late at night or very early in the morning when nobody else was around. As she stated to Ron when he questioned her use of it, when it could obviously go to a less, in his words, mundane use, "Well, like you said, it is called the Sword of Wisdom. Why not use it to gain some?"  
So it was that she sat in the library one afternoon, poring over some books she had discovered earlier that same day. There were books on more subjects than she had ever dreamed there could be in the Hogwarts library, and more information than one person could ever hope to go through in a lifetime. She was so engrossed in her reading that she didn't notice a certain red-headed girl sit down before her.  
Ginny coughed. "Er, hello, Hermione."  
Hermione started. She set down her book. "Oh, hello Ginny. What brings you here?"  
Ginny's eyes traveled over the mountain of books before Hermione. "Well, I know you read a lot, everyone knows that, but, you are spending an inordinate amount of time in here, even for you. Care to enlighten me?"  
Hermione pursed her lips and searched for a good excuse. She couldn't tell Ginny about the Swords. Dumbledore had been explicit about that. No one was to know. "If it's about the Swords." started Ginny, before Hermione cut her off.  
"What?" she shrieked, eyes widening. A few people looked at her, and Madame Pince, the librarian, glared at her. She lowered her voice. "How do you know about that? No one is supposed to."  
Ginny smiled wanly. "Ron has a big mouth, you know. I overheard him talking about it to Harry a few nights ago when they thought everyone was asleep. I was having trouble sleeping, so I was going to come down to the common room. Very interesting, these Swords."  
Hermione motioned for her to keep it down. "Don't start with that," she hissed. That was all she needed, for everyone in the school to know about the Swords. Especially the Slytherins, who weren't all necessarily evil, but were all ambitious. There was no telling what they would do to try and possess power of the magnitude granted by a Sword.  
Ginny sighed, but nodded. "Then, Hermione, you didn't answer my first question. Why are you here so much?"  
Hermione just stared at her for a moment. Did she dare tell even Ginny the truth of the matter? This was not exactly something that one went about blabbing, especially when the potential negative consequences could be so high. But if she couldn't trust Ginny with this, then she could trust no one.  
Hermione sighed and stood. "Come on, let's go somewhere a little more private." Ginny helped her gather some of the books and they headed down for the ground around the lake. Though there were many people around there, too, the lake was thankfully big enough that it was easy to find a secluded spot where no one would interrupt them.  
Hermione sat down and stared across the lake, thinking about the past few years. Her life had changed so much when she arrived at Hogwarts. She had always been the "smart girl," and had been despised for it. The children at her old school had picked on her. She hadn't had any friends, except for a chubby boy who reminded her of Neville. She had thought all that would change when she arrived at Hogwarts, that the people there would appreciate her intelligence. But all she had found was famous Harry Potter and his sidekick Ron, who could do whatever they pleased and get away with it. They were the talk of the school with their antics, while all of her amazing academic achievements only brought her more grief here. This was something that she had secretly heard Terry Boot in Ravenclaw complaining about, that the "flashy, overbearing Gryffindors" get all the credit while Ravenclaws got none. Though Harry hadn't struck her as the arrogant, snobbish boy she had pictured (that role was filled by Draco Malfoy), he was very prideful. Ron had been just plain rude. But.Harry had saved her life. She knew it had been Harry's idea to go after her. It had amazed her that anyone, especially Harry Potter and Ron Weasley would've gone out of their way to save her, putting themselves in great danger at the same time.  
She had realized after the Yule Ball in fourth year that Ron had feelings for her, but she just hadn't felt the same way. She adored Ron as a friend, but she didn't feel he was right for her, something that their ensuing relationship in fifth year had proven. Despite that internal caution, it hadn't prepared her for the terrible way she had felt after their breakup. She thought that she had been too hard on him, hadn't given him the chance he deserved. But once again, Harry had been her savior, lifting her out of the torrent of misery she had inflicted on herself.  
"Hermione? You had a faraway look in your eyes. Are you OK?" Ginny's voice brought Hermione back to the present. She turned to Ginny slowly.  
"Yes, yes, I'm fine. I was just thinking. About my life and all." She took a deep breath. "Ginny.has anyone ever told you what it's like to be in love?"  
Ginny stared back at her. "Is that a rhetorical question or do you want an answer?"  
Hermione's eyes turned down for a moment. "Just tell me, please."  
Ginny studied her for a moment. She could see the streams of emotion flooding through Hermione right now. "Well.not exactly. I asked my mum, a few years back, after second year. And she said." Her voice drifted off for a moment, remembering that day, when she realized she didn't love Harry Potter. "She said, you'll know when you're in love. Because it's something you can't describe. But it'll be something so deep, so amazingly intense, that you'll know. Love is something you have to wait to feel." Hermione's eyes started to water. So that was it then. That was it. She burst into tears. Ginny, shocked, reached over and put an arm around her. "Hermione? What's wrong, what's the matter?"  
Hermione shook her head. "This is it. This is what I was afraid of. That is was true. That I, I.loved him." She cascaded into more tears.  
Ginny was unsure what to say. "Er, loved who?"  
Hermione choked back more sobs. She wasn't sure when it happened. But after all Harry had done for her over the past years.He had saved her life more times than anyone should have to be saved. Even in the Second Task of the Triwizard Tournament, he had tried to save her, though he didn't need to. And he had shown Krum how to do so. She had never seen him as "famous Harry Potter," save for when she first met him. She had always seen who he was inside, and now, she knew in her heart that Ginny's words rang true. You would know. And she knew. "Harry. I love Harry. And I don't want to. For the life of me, I don't want to."  
Now Ginny really didn't know what to do. This was not good, to say the least. Hermione had a major problem. "Well, er, why not? I mean, he's."  
"He's my friend!" Hermione moaned, "My best friend. How am I supposed to tell him this? Do you have any idea what it would do? It would destroy what we have. That's why I don't want to. That's why I can't tell him. That's why I'm in the library so much. After.after he rescued me from Pettigrew."  
"You didn't want to have to face him?" Hermione nodded. Ginny thought for a moment. "Do you think he knows?"  
"I.I don't think so, I mean, I haven't done anything, I think.I don't know!" she moaned. This was new to her. Ginny, who was far more knowledgeable in this area, had no idea what to do, let alone Hermione. Hermione just had no experience in this kind of matter. She'd never felt like this before.  
"Well." Ginny searched for words to continue. This was getting worse by the second, she thought, Sooner or later, Hermione's crying would attract someone, worst case, it might attract Ron.or even worse, Harry himself! "Er, do you think Harry.er." Need a word! she thought. "Likes you back?" She went for the softer side.  
Hermione shook her head. "How could he? I mean, look at me. I so.so plain, and.there's no reason he'd like me.not the way I like him."  
Ginny knew what to do now. Hermione had left herself wide open for this one. "Oh, Hermione, you're not plain, by no means. You're very pretty. And you're so smart, and likeable. How can you say Harry wouldn't like you?" Ginny truly had no idea what Hermione was talking about. While Hermione wasn't anywhere close to the likes of the Patil twins, she had a kind of calm, earthly beauty to her. Just the way she held herself, the way she could express so much with her eyes, the way her smile could light a room. Lots of people, well mostly Gryffindors, had noticed it. Hermione didn't know it, but she could make most guys at Hogwarts melt with a single smile, Harry had told Ginny once.  
"Oh, I.I don't know, but.I don't want to jeopardize what we have now on a gamble like that. I don't want to alienate Ron, I just want things to be the way they are."  
Ginny took Hermione's hand. "Hermione, one day, when you get married, you're going to spend less time with Harry and Ron anyways. Things can't stay the way they are now; that's just the way life is. You can't be too afraid to choose because you're afraid the other one will get left in the cracks." Ginny sighed. "Love is about taking gambles. Besides, if it's really the chance aspect of this, maybe you should ask to borrow Neville's Sword."  
Hermione smiled despite herself. "Maybe." She seemed much better now, and her earlier sobs had been reduced to an occasional sniff. She stood up, grabbing her books. "Thanks, Ginny. Somehow, I knew I could count on you to help me out."  
Ginny watched her depart, then turned back to the glassy calm surface of the lake. Watched the girl who she knew was destined for Harry Potter, the boy she had thought she loved. The boy she still sometimes dreamed of. "What're friends for?"  
  
Hermione went back up to the library then, and Ginny departed for the common room. The hour grew late, though, so she trudged up to Gryffindor Tower. She found Harry asleep on a chair next to the fire, book lying on the floor next to him as if dropped from his hand. There was a note on a nearby table.  
  
Hermione, I was waiting for you to show up. I guess I fell asleep though. Sorry. You've been a little scarce this past week, and I was just wondering if everything's OK. Ron's worried about you, too. We know you like to study, but not even you're this bad. Please, if something's wrong, you know you can talk to me about anything.  
  
Harry  
  
"Not about this, though, Harry, not this," she whispered. She was about to wake him, when she had a sudden notion. She ran up to her room and grabbed Wayfinder. She knew how to work it from Harry's description, and she knew that theoretically, it could tell her where to find anything.anything at all.  
Just to test is, she whispered, "Where is Harry?" The blade quivered and pointed straight at him. She took a deep breath and posed another question. "Where can I find true love?" To her horror, the blade pointed again at Harry. She collapsed to the floor. Thankfully, Harry did not wake. "No," she groaned, "Why?" The Sword could not answer. She thought a moment. She didn't know exactly what the Sword could do. She considered the verse from the Song of Swords. The Sword of Wisdom lightens loads.So theoretically it could make her job easier.perhaps by directing her to those who could help. So maybe Harry could help her find true love, and was not it himself.  
Oh, this is foolish, she thought, trying to dissuade myself. She was making up excuses and she knew it. She was so afraid, though. She stood, still looking at Harry. What if he did love her? Did she dare tell him the truth? Was she willing to accept the risks, and the possible consequences? She didn't know yet. Their friendship was more important to her than anything at all. She had been afraid that after her and Ron's break-up that they wouldn't be friends any longer. It could still happen with Harry. So she only headed back up to her dorm, leaving Harry to sleep on the chair. 


	6. Chapter 5: Soulcutter

Disclaimer: I own nothing. JKR owns Harry Potter and Associates. Fred Saberhagen owns the Swords Series. Actually, I do own Taylor Ward and Luis Garcia. Please don't use them without asking me.  
  
A/N: You do see a bit of Quidditch here, but not much, sorry. I might write a match in the distant future, but it's looking unlikely.  
  
CHAPTER FIVE: SOULCUTTER  
  
It was now mid-October. Harry had to start Quidditch practice soon, especially considering they needed to hold tryouts. He had managed to get Professor McGonagall to waive the first year rule for Taylor Ward, under the caveat that her marks must not slip a single iota, or she'd sit. Other than that, Harry had a couple decent Beaters, though not to the caliber of the Weasley twins. He had one superb Chaser, who had been a reserve, before Ward, one decent one, and one OK one. The latter had not technically been reserves, but had been working with the team in an attempt to build for next year. He had Luis Garcia, who had replaced Oliver Wood last year, and was excellent, if not quite as good as Wood had been. But Luis was a third year, and had plenty of room to grow.  
In any event, he headed downstairs to the Great Hall for some food. He thought he'd tell everyone who wanted to be on the team to meet in the common room immediately following the end of classes. He found Ron there.  
"Hey Ron." He glanced about. "Have you seen Hermione? She never did come back up to Gryffindor Tower last night.at least, not while I was awake."  
Ron shook his head and swallowed his food before replying. "No, she may have come down earlier, I guess. I don't know. She has been avoiding us lately, hasn't she?"  
Harry nodded. "I wonder why?" Although he was concerned for his friend, he had other things on his mind at that moment, plus the fact was that Hermione did tend to be the most loner of the three of them. He wasn't concerned, yet.  
After finishing his meal, Harry asked Professor McGonagall to announce the Quidditch meeting. There appeared to be great interest. Harry of course, knew that Colin Creevey would try out just for the sake of trying to be close to his hero. Harry had suspicions, though, that Colin was.playing for the other team, in the metaphorical sense. It was rather disturbing. But he didn't want Colin to get upset if he just went and told him he wasn't.that way.  
Harry saw Hermione in class that day, but she was still avoiding him and Ron. She instead chose to sit with either Neville or someone from another house. Ron was upset about this. He needed her help to keep his marks up. Even Harry noticed that he was having more trouble, despite the fact that he worked harder now. Maybe it was the fact that she wasn't there helping him. Or maybe it was the whole issue was so distracting.  
During Herbology, Harry couldn't help but watch Hermione and try to figure out just what was wrong. She seemed fine, but wouldn't return his gaze. It was if she ignored his existence. He was so engrossed, he didn't notice that he was cutting his roots all wrong, even when Professor Sprout was standing.well, not over him, but peering at him from his side.  
"Ahem," she coughed. Harry started and looked about.  
"Professor?"  
"Potter, you need to pay more attention to what you are doing, and less to Miss Granger." She pointed to his ruined roots. Upon her comment about Hermione, he saw her flush out of the corner of his eye. His own face felt very hot.  
A few of the other boys smiled and gave him appreciative nods. He didn't feel like acknowledging them, so he went back to his work, this time focused clearly on what he was doing.  
The rest of the day seemed to last for an eternity. While Harry managed to avoid staring at Hermione, he was always thinking about her in the back of his mind. He was very relieved when it came time to perform his duties as Gryffindor Captain.  
Several people had already shown up when he arrived. Both of his reserve Beaters, Jeremy Hanks and Tony Early were waiting, talking about some amazing flying story they were no doubt embellishing. Colin Creevey was there, much to Harry's displeasure. The kid tried hard, but he really, well, sucked. A few people Harry didn't recognize had also arrived.  
"Well, as you all know, I'm Harry Potter, Gryffindor Captain. We're just going to wait for a few minutes for everyone else to show up." As he said this, Taylor Ward came rushing in through the portrait hole, along with the three Reserve Chasers.  
Harry glanced about. "Well, then, I guess that's everyone. As most of you know, the only returning starters are myself and Luis, our Keeper. Jeremy and Tony," he nodded to them, "were our Reserve Beaters, and the Weasley twins were working both of them hard, so they're almost a lock. As for Chasers, well." Everyone involuntarily glanced at Ward, who blushed and sunk into her chair even farther. "We need three new ones. The field is wide open. So, anyways, I wanted to welcome you all and let you know that, in fact, tryouts start today. So grab your brooms and come down to the pitch with me."  
They all stared at him for a moment, except Luis, who grinned, and said, "Come on, guys, let's do it!" He already had his stuff and stood up to stand next to Harry. The rest ran off to grab their stuff. "Creevey kid again, huh?" murmured Luis.  
"Yeah, looks that way," muttered Harry back.  
"I could, well.explain it to him," Luis offered darkly.  
Harry shook his head. "If he's improved enough to make it, he makes it." Luis shook his head, but agreed. Harry privately thought he was right. Colin was too small to be a Beater, and he doubted that he'd be good enough to get one of the Chaser positions, especially if Ward was as good as everyone was saying.  
After a few minutes, everyone was back, and they headed down. Harry, walking along, suddenly noticed a lone figure in the stands. It was Hermione. She appeared to be studying. Harry pretended not to see her. If she had come to watch, that was fine. If not, well, that was fine, too. He'd try to talk to her later when he got a chance.  
"OK, people, first off, we're going to run a few.drills. Specifically, evasion. All people trying out for Beater, over here, all Chasers, over here." They all shuffled about. Beyond Jeremy and Tony, there was only one kid who was trying for Beater. Harry figured he'd probably be Reserve then. No problem. He turned to the Chasers. Six people for three spots. He'd probably keep four so he could have a backup. The fastest of the extras, so they could have a backup Seeker if need be. Though he didn't anticipate any problems, with Voldemort back and all one never knew.  
"Alright, here's what we're doing. These are normal balls, and will not chase after you. They do, however, have a hovering charm, so they'll float, and they are the rough size of a Bludger. The Beaters will try and hit the Chasers, who will be trying to avoid them. Don't worry, they can't hurt you." He looked at the people. "Alright, in the air."  
He and Luis floated to the center of the group. He handed the balls to Luis. "Do it."  
Luis threw one at the Beater, who hit it towards the Chaser. They managed to avoid it. This went on for some minutes, and they all worked up a good sweat. Harry noticed that Ward so far appeared as advertised, having absolutely no problems with the evasion. She was also extremely fast, being so slim.  
They moved on to shooting next. Harry started as the Keeper, so as not to make it too hard. He wanted to see which of them could actually put the Quaffle through the hoop, let alone past a real Keeper. As predicted, Colin was horrible, missing several shots completely and having most blocked by Harry. Ward, however, was amazing. Harry reflected that Ron had been modest about how good she was, to say nothing of herself. She had pinpoint accuracy, and excellent moves.  
Harry told them all to take a break. He scanned the stands again. Hermione was still there. He flew over to her. She didn't look up at first. He hovered there for a moment, and she finally set her book down. "What is it, Harry?" she asked, sighing heavily and flicking a strand of hair out of her eyes.  
Harry's stomach seized up for a moment when she did that. Then he found his voice. "Quiet up here, isn't it?" Great observation, Sherlock, he thought.  
"Mmm-hmm."  
Harry searched for words. "Er, Ron and I have been worried about you lately. You never seem to be around. Anything wrong, anything I can help you with?"  
He didn't see the begging in her eyes. Yes, Harry, you can tell me you love me like I love you, she thought for a moment. "No, I, erm, I just needed some time to myself. I'm sorry I've been neglecting you. I'll try to be around more." With that, she picked up her book again. Harry could tell she was ignoring him. He stared at her a moment more, a certain bleakness filling his heart, then flew back to the pitch.  
Before they could get started, though, he saw a red-headed figure running towards him. It was Ron. He gasped at Harry, clearly out of breath. "Harry! You've got to come quick!"  
"What? What's happened?"  
"It's You-Know-Who! He's attacking the Ministry!"  
Harry's eyes hardened. He stepped onto the turf and ran after Ron calling, "Luis, get everything cleaned up. I've got to go!" He followed Ron up to the castle. He was met in the Great Hall by Professor Dumbledore. They had a real-time report happening, shown from a floating ghostly image in the center of the Hall.  
".The Death Eaters Apparated in just after. There has been virtually no resistance from the Ministry. As for the situation inside, there was only that garbled message of a trick before all communication was lost. Members of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad are on their way." The witch on the screen peered over the boxes she was hiding behind. "There appear to be about fifteen Death Eaters. Strangely enough, they are not advancing."  
Harry looked at Dumbledore. "Sir, what happened? What do they mean a message about a trick?"  
Dumbledore looked grave, and his light blue eyes were full of steel. "There was a communication that Voldemort had tricked them somehow, but after that there has been nothing. I fear some kind of weapon has been unleashed in the Ministry itself." He turned to McGonagall. "I've summoned the members of the Order. As soon as the Death Eaters leave, we're heading in to try and see what can be done, and what happened."  
Harry and Ron stepped up. "We'd like to go too, sir."  
Birmingham, who was there-Snape was curiously absent-fixed them with an intense stare. "Are you mad? They could attack again at any moment once they leave. It would be just the opportunity Voldemort needs to finish you off, Potter." One part of Harry's mind reflected that Birmingham had said Voldemort. He couldn't remember him mentioning the Dark Lord before, though, so who knew?  
Dumbledore looked at Harry for a moment. "No, I do not think they will be back. By then, there will be too many trained wizards there.plus they will have done all the damage they need to." Birmingham scowled, but acknowledged Dumbledore's authority in this matter.  
There was a small gasp from behind Harry. He turned. Hermione stood there, books clutched to her chest, eyes scanning the screen. Harry fixed with a gaze for a moment, but she didn't look at him, so he turned back to Dumbledore. "I'm going to get my Sword. It might be useful. Neville should come too. And Ron." He hesitated. "Yeah."  
Dumbledore inspected him a moment. "And what about Miss Granger?"  
Harry squirmed a moment under Dumbledore's gaze. "Well, er, I'm not sure what use Wayfinder could do there," he lied.  
Dumbledore continued to look at him. "I see. Come with me for a moment, Harry." He led Harry off to a more secluded area of the room. "Now, tell me, what is the real reason you do not wish Miss Granger to accompany you?"  
Harry sighed. He should've know there'd be no use hiding the truth from Dumbledore. "Well, she's.upset with Ron and me for some reason. I can't for the life of me figure out why. I just thought it'd be better if she didn't come."  
Dumbledore nodded slowly. "I understand, Harry. But we must leave the decision up to her."  
Harry looked down. He was being stupid, and he knew it. He nodded. He went back to observe with the others while Dumbledore conversed quickly with Hermione. Harry watched out of the corner of his eyes, and she seemed to be reluctant. Eventually, he saw Dumbledore nod, and turn away. "Er, is she coming?" he asked hesitantly when Dumbledore returned. Dumbledore shook his head, and that was that.  
"It seems the attack is over, Harry. Get your Swords and meet me back here." Ron and Harry ran up and grabbed their magical weapons, grabbing Neville along the way. They returned, and trailed Dumbledore, Birmingham, and Flitwick over to a fireplace. "I will go first," said Dumbledore. He picked up some Floo Powder and stepped into the fireplace.  
  
They all arrived to find a mess before them. There were several members of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement milling about, and Harry saw several others coming towards him. It was Remus Lupin, Arabella Figg, and Mundungus Fletcher. Sirius was absent. Made sense, though, with all these Ministry officials about, one slip and he'd be finished.  
A Ministry official noticed them and strode over. "Albus Dumbledore. Didn't expect to see you here."  
Dumbledore smiled without his usual humor. "Yes, well, I decided that this situation was slightly more important than the school at this time. Can you tell me what has happened?"  
The official pointed to the Ministry building. "There's been severe damage to the outside of the structure. So far, no one's come out. We can't see why. There appears to be no obstructions for the exits."  
"Could it have something to do with the trick Voldemort played on them?" asked Harry impetuously, causing a cringe in most of those about him. He stared into the building. He couldn't see any external damage, but wasn't an expert. He'd have to trust what he was told for now.  
"Well, we don't know. We have no idea what kind of weapon was used."  
Dumbledore nodded sagely. "I would like to inspect the building a bit closer in, if I may."  
"Well, if it was anyone else.OK."  
Dumbledore walked slowly towards the building. However, as he got within fifty feet of it, he slowed suddenly, and almost stumbled. He slowly stood, and retreated. He returned to where the rest stood. "Allow no one to approach the building. I have an idea about what is in there."  
The official looked at the building. "What do you mean?"  
Dumbledore sighed, and it seemed somehow to take all his strength. Harry stared into his face, as white and drawn as he had ever seen it. "There is a powerful weapon in there, one that no human on this planet can resist. It will rid your mind of its will." He turned back to the building. "Until it can be removed, no one must approach it."  
"But, are the people still alive?"  
"Not for long they won't be. They won't eat, drink, sleep, do anything at all. Eventually, they'll die."  
Harry looked in as the Ministry official departed. "There's a Sword in there. They'll starve." He thought back. But many left to starve. "Soulcutter. Soulcutter's in there. So that's the Sword that Voldemort got."  
Dumbledore looked at Harry. "It would appear that way, Harry. There's little more that we can do here. We should return to Hogwarts." With that, they trudged back to the fireplace to return to the school, more dejected than when they had left. There was nothing to do here. There was only one chilling thought that was left with them. The Swords overrode all magic they could perform.even that by Professor Dumbledore. 


End file.
